


I'm the One You Pray to Every Night (Cause You're Mine)

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: God Complex, M/M, Necrophilia, mad scientist/second banana fucked up power dynamics, this is still somehow romantic even though it's super fucking weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 17:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16499405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: Going from dead to aware of his own body is always an experience, but Frank's never become aware of his own body while it was being taken advantage of by his weirdo boss who likes to kill him and bring him back.





	I'm the One You Pray to Every Night (Cause You're Mine)

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: temporary necrophilia. Frank starts dead but doesn't stay dead. 
> 
> ....yeah, I know, but trust me and go with it, okay?

When Frank comes to after death number thirty-one, his eyes open to find his face pressed into a pillow. Going from dead to aware of his own body is always an experience, but he's never become aware of his own body while it was being taken advantage of by his weirdo boss who likes to kill him and bring him back. Frank lifts his head up, feeling weak and overwhelmed like he feels every time he comes back, and before he can even say anything Clayton gasps and spills into him and stutters into stillness pressed along Frank's back.

"That's new," Frank says. It's not like they haven't messed around in the past, but getting fucked while he's still dead seems like a different ballpark.

"I brought you back," Clayton breathes against the nape of his neck, and Frank can't figure out if the sex is a proximal cause of the resurrection or the price he's expected to pay for it. He puts a hand up to tangle in Clayton's flyaway hair and gets a kiss at his hairline.

By the third time Frank revives in the middle of being taken, Clayton stops coming as soon as Frank wakes up. That's when Frank figures out that it's not a price he's paying.

"I brought you back..." Frank's hips are in the air and Clayton's hand is between his legs, gently caressing a bit of anatomy that's determined to show that he's alive again as soon as he realizes that he is. "I did. And only I could."

"You're the only one that can kill me in the first place," Frank points out, stretching his arms out before rearranging himself into a more comfortable pose. He didn't have time to complain the first two times this happened, but he doesn't really want to complain about it now. Clayton's chemical-scarred hand wraps firmly around Frank's cock and strokes, pulling a shaky sound of pleasure from Frank's throat.

"Just because I'm the only one who does doesn't mean I'm the only one who can," Clayton says scornfully. "Killing you is not a hard thing to do. It's the un-killing that's the hard part."

"You don't have to tell me your hard parts when I'm experiencing them directly," Frank says with a cheeky shift of his hips, and Clayton snorts and pinches him.

"You could show a little gratitude."

"I think the part where you kill me first means I don't have to."

"Rude! I could just leave you dead." Frank isn't positive that's an empty threat. He's pretty sure Clayton is too lazy to train another second banana, but he's also petty and spiteful and proud.

"You'd miss me too much," he says, betting on it being true, and from the breathy laugh behind him he thinks he hit his mark.

"You are uncommonly satisfying to kill. It'd be a shame to deprive myself of the pleasure of it." Okay, _weird_ , but when isn't Clayton weird? A fingertip strokes that one perfect spot just under the head of Frank's cock and he presses his face into the pillow to stifle his whimper. "Oh, don't do that."

"Do what?" Frank mumbles into the pillow, and he gets a sharp tug on his hair to pull his head back.

"Don't try to make it so I can't hear you. This is much better when you're participating."

"Then why do you keep starting when I can't participate?" Frank bites his lip as soon as the words escape him, expecting a swift and painful reprisal. What he gets is a caress of his hip and a couple of energetic thrusts into him.

"Science," Clayton says, and Frank's willing to leave it at that if it means he can avoid one of Clayton's rambling and quasi-meaningless rants about mad science. He doesn't care how it works, as long as it works, and oh man, is this ever working for him. He's glad he came to in time to enjoy it, this time around. Clayton may be a petty little dictator of a mad scientist, but he's also surprisingly good in bed when he expends the effort to be.

"Oh god," Frank sighs.

"Yes?" One deft twist of Clayton's hand takes Frank over the brink and leaves him feeling twice as weak and boneless as Clayton's hips snap into him a few more times before he comes too. Frank's single thought that he shouldn't let Clayton get away with his god complex pops like a bubble as the lankier man wraps himself around Frank and nuzzles the back of his neck.

The next time is different. The next time, Frank knows what's going to happen, because this time when he dies, it's while he's being fucked, with Clayton's long fingers wrapped around his throat and with Clayton's mustache tickling his lips as he's kissed and throttled until everything fades into a starry nothingness. When his eyes open again the only thing that's different is that now Clayton's hands are on his face instead of his throat. All he can see are dark, crazy, intense eyes right in front of his own, which go half-lidded in satisfaction as soon as Frank's gaze focuses.

"I brought you back," Clayton whispers, and kisses Frank hard. Frank whimpers into his mouth and comes instantly, every nerve coming alive at once simply too much for him to bear, and Clayton makes a sound that's equal parts growl and laugh and pounds into Frank before he finds his release a scant few breaths after him. He sags on top of Frank and they cling to each other until they've both caught their breath, which takes longer for Frank, given that he'd been deprived of it for a while.

 _This is so fucked up_ , Frank thinks but doesn't say. _You're fucking me back to life_ , he also doesn't say. What he does say is, "You're taking my life and giving it back to me," and then he kisses Clayton because, yes, it's super fucked up, but it's also... kind of romantic in a way that suits their weird dynamic better than any confession of love. It's all right for Frank's life to be in Clayton's hands. After all, he'd miss him too much to let him stay dead.


End file.
